


Seventh Wheel

by WanderingSkis



Series: These Kids Need Therapy [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: High School, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith is so awkward someone help him, Shenanigans, bathroom selfies, hunk is precious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSkis/pseuds/WanderingSkis
Summary: "'Do you make a habit of finding me in weird places?' Keith said, and there was actually a hint of a smirk at his lips.Well, two could play at that game.'Do you make a habit of always being in weird places?' Lance retorted, and Lance was honestly shocked they were even having this conversation."Maybe Lance is always destined to be a seventh wheel. That is, he thinks so until a chance encounter in a mall bathroom with the bane of his existence proves otherwise. Funny how life works like that.
Series: These Kids Need Therapy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929571
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Seventh Wheel

It was almost midway through the school year. It was the beginning of January, the time of the year where a fresh layer of snow covered the dead grass and barren trees, and a harsh chill bit the air. And, of course, it was the month of everyone’s favorite type of exams, meant to test a high school student’s will to live. Midterms.

Lance had many words to describe midterms and how he felt about them, many of which that would get him a major licking from his mom. But, in simple terms, he was not excited. But he tried not to think about it.

Hunk and Pidge, however, couldn’t seem to get their minds on anything—literally _anything_ —else.

On the first day back from winter break, after shouting, embracing, and sharing the details of their vacation, Hunk had made an offhanded comment about how midterms were coming up and they’d better start studying. Lance had laughed. He’d thought he was kidding…

Apparently, Hunk had been far from kidding, as it was only their third day back and, already, Hunk and Pidge had cracked out textbooks and notebooks full of notes in the middle of their amnesty club meeting. (Pidge’s notes were written in messy scrawl, not even complete thoughts, merely an assortment of nonsensical words that somehow made sense to her. Meanwhile, Hunk’s were at least _legible_ , written neatly, for the most part, with headings and were separated in sections).

Unfortunately, without their club leader there (Allura was still away on vacation with Coran and her despised cousin), there wasn’t much for them to do. Shiro, who would normally take over the club in the event of Allura’s absence, had left before it even started. Apparently, his mom was sick, and he’d wanted to get home and check on her. And, of course, whenever there was no Shiro, there was no Keith.

So that just left Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. And their notes that he couldn’t read/understand. And believe him, he’d tried! But taking completely different classes at completely different levels didn’t exactly make studying together an easy thing.

While Lance was taking accelerated chemistry—and just barely scraping through, for that matter—Hunk and Pidge were both taking the AP course. They were both in different classes, had different teachers, in fact, but it was more or less the same material, so they were able to ask each other rushed questions and have lengthy debates over the science behind botox reactions or whatever they were called.

And that left Lance without anyone to really talk to. Or anything to do in general.

He couldn’t exactly just pack up and go home either, as his older sister didn’t get off work until 5:30. So Lance was stranded. Counting the number of Napoleon quotes on the wall of Coran’s classroom. You’d be surprised by the number. Coran had always had a slight obsession with Napoleon that Lance was sure wasn’t healthy. So far, Lance had counted 29.

He hadn’t been picked up until he counted 42 Napoleon quotes, 19 history puns, four hung essays on the significance of potatoes throughout history, five pictures of their previous principal, Principal Alfor, (plus one of the two of them together at a school convention, of sorts), and one picture of Allura. He’d been about halfway through counting the number of white tiles in the room (both the floor and walls included), before his sister finally texted him that she was on her way.

Lance had let out a silent sigh of relief, before smirking and stretching out from where he was sitting on the top of the desk towards the back of the room.

He glanced to his left, where Hunk and Pidge were silently looking through notes, Hunk hurriedly scribbling some things down. Both of them had dead focus, the air around them stiff and alert.

Lance, paying no mind to their level of focus, deepened his smirk, the edges of his lip quirking up and flashing a hint of teeth.

“So, it’s been a real party, kiddos, but Veronica's on her way, so I’mma have to go soon.”

Hunk and Pidge made no effort to move. Eyes still roving back and forth along the page, Hunk let out a half-hearted, “Okay, see you later, Lance.”

And, well, that wasn’t exactly the response that Lance wanted. At least it was better than Pidge’s muttered, “Later.”

Ignoring the sudden spark of hurt in his gut, Lance straightened up, leaping off the desk and onto the ground, flashing his friends a large grin (which they failed to look up and notice).

He danced to the door, light on his feet and ignoring the slight heaviness in his step.

He paused before stepping out, turning back to face his obliviously focused friends.

“Hey, guys,” Lance said, and it was loud and excited…and maybe a little stressed, based on the guilty look Hunk and Pidge gave him when they finally looked up. He shoved down the sudden sparks of panic, however, and continued as normal. “Wanna come hang at my place after school tomorrow?”

Pidge, not too unexpectedly, shook her head apologetically. “Sorry. Matt and I were gonna try to blow stuff up tomorrow.” When Hunk gave her a questioning look, she reassured him with her typical response of “Science stuff”. They’d learned not to question it.

At Pidge’s dismissal, _the traitor_ , Lance’s gaze shifted over to Hunk, his expression, dare he say it, a little hopeful.

“Hunk? It’s Fricasé Friday. Your _favorite_.”

Hunk looked back at him with a flushed, startled expression. He shrunk under Lance’s silently begging eyes, smiling nervously and scratching the back of his neck.

“I was actually, uh, gonna try and get some studying in? I really just wanna try and get a head start while I’ve got time, y’know? Like school really likes to pile it all on, especially when we least want it to happen, so you’ve gotta try and stay ahead and—”

“Okay, I get it, Hunk,” Lance cut in. Hunk looked at him sheepishly. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to give up. “Maybe I could help you study?”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, Lance, ‘cause you _totally_ would be helpful with studying this stuff.”

“Excuse me, Pidge,” Lance huffed, placing his hand to his chest. “I happen to be very smart.”

Pidge looked at him, unamused.

“You don’t even know the difference between an atom and a molecule.”

He shrunk a little at that. Pidge wasn’t exactly wrong…

“Well it’s not my fault they’re _confusing_!” Lance said, and then he shrugged like it didn’t matter. ‘Cause it didn’t. It totally didn’t.

Pidge was looking at him blankly; meanwhile, Hunk was grimacing for whatever reason.

“Okay,” he finally said, rocking a little on his feet. “See you guys tomorrow, I guess.”

They bid him farewell, Hunk looking apologetic, while Pidge just resumed looking at her textbook—again, _the traitor_.

Still, Lance gave them one last winning smile before graciously exiting the room.

He spent Friday night watching re-runs of _Modern Family_ and scrolling through Instagram.

He’d tried to do some homework, but after forgetting what a polyatomic ion was for the fifth time, Lance had given up. Future Lance could deal with it. It wasn’t much of a big deal. Still, he sighed.

Over the weekend, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all went to the mall together. At first, it was really fun. They went to the food court and ate all the free samples, running from vendor to vendor like it was an assembly line. They’d also trolled around Newbury Comics, and Pidge geeked out over the Tetris board game that was apparently a thing, and Hunk almost cried over “how cute” the _My Little Pony_ stuffed animals were.

They all teased each other the whole time and it was light and it was fun and it was _normal_.

Then, they came across the science store…

It was new to the mall, had just opened the previous week. Anyways, it was called “My Chemical Romance,” which was, all in all, pretty lame.

They’d all snickered at the name, automatically stepping inside. The store played a playlist of entirely My Chemical Romance songs. It was a little ridiculous.

But Hunk and Pidge, they’d actually thought the stuff inside was pretty cool. Lance, on the other hand, had pretty much no idea what half of the stuff even was. So he’d gotten bored pretty quickly.

“You guys are the _worst_ ,” Lance had groaned as the two of them gawked over a kit that apparently could change the gravity of an area. Like, it was _cool_ , but it wasn’t _that_ cool. It certainly didn’t require a 20 minute discussion over the various ways it could’ve worked.

“Fuck you, Lance,” Pidge said. “This stuff is _cool_. Don’t mock our nerdery. We’re outed geeks, and we’re _proud_!”

“More like _buzzkills_ ,” Lance muttered half-heartedly.

“Well if you can’t understand something _awesome_ when you see it, then you can leave.”

And Lance did.

Lance had wandered aimlessly through various stores with ridiculous names, but he quickly got bored.

He hadn’t taken any selfies in the giant bathrooms yet. Maybe he could go do that.

And so, he did.

Or…he tried to

When he’d gotten to the area of the bathroom with all the comfy chairs and stuff, he’d almost missed it. He’d almost strode right past, taken a ton of meaningless selfies in the absurdly giant mirror, spent the rest of his mall trip walking around alone and dejected until Hunk and Pidge were ready to go home, and then he would’ve tried to do his homework, given up, and watched TV to drone out the small voice in his head nagging him for being an idiot.

But he _had_ seen that flash of a dark jacket that looked oddly familiar, and his curiosity kept him from continuing on with his day until he investigated.

And now, here he was, staring in shock at Keith-fucking-Kogane in the mall bathroom and internally panicking. Because he and Keith never really saw each other outside of Amnesty Club, where they were forced to acknowledge each other’s existence.

Their only real encounter had been when Lance randomly stumbled upon Keith in the middle of the park late at night and they’d somehow ended up watching the stars together. Which was weird. But even then, the only reason they’d even talked at all was because Lance had literally stepped on and tripped over him.

They’d never talked about it.

So, taking in Keith’s rumpled form in a public place outside of school while Keith fiddled absently with the dog tags around his neck with a far-off look in his eyes, Lance was having trouble deciding if he should talk to him. Because _what would he even say_? They weren’t exactly _friends_. Or maybe they were? It was confusing.

But by now he’d been staring at Keith for a full minute, and the elderly lady on the couch across the room had given him a weird look, so it wasn’t like he could just walk away now.

He had to say something.

He went with the cool, suave, and smooth expression, “What the fuck are you doing in the bathroom?” which earned him another look from the lady.

And, for a moment, Lance hated himself because _why the fuck would he say that_?

He questioned just booking it and pretending this never happened, but it was too late, as Keith’s eyes shot up to meet Lance’s, and he looked mildly alarmed.

“Lance?” he said, and the dog tags fell from his fingers.

Lance, knowing full well he needed to redeem himself after the absolute _fuckery_ he’d just spewed out of his mouth, flashed Keith a charming smile.

“Come here often?” Lance said with his devilishly attractive smile, and well, Keith didn’t act all too accordingly to his joke.

Instead, Keith looked up at him with wide, worried eyes, and Lance was confused, because Keith was a lot of things. Aloof. Detached. Brooding. _Moody_ , Lance thought, recounting their last encounter when Keith had told him to shove a dick in his mouth and walked away. Keith was a lot of things, most of all, straight up _confusing_. But he wasn’t timid.

But, then again, Keith always seemed to have a way of surprising him…

Flashes of soft hair falling around soft skin and thoughtful eyes shining against twinkling stars penetrated his mind. He pushed them away.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asked, his gray eyes unmoving against Lance’s face, serious and penetrating. Always penetrating.

Opting for a more humorous response, because Lance decided Keith needed someone to rip that huge stick out of his ass (and also ‘cause the real reason was a little pitiful), Lance said, “Taking a shit. Like any other normal person on the planet. Ever read _Everybody Poops_?”

Lance was actually a bit surprised when Keith’s expression relaxed slightly at that.

He was even more surprised when Keith released a huff of amusement.

“Do you make a habit of finding me in weird places?” Keith said, and there was actually a hint of a _smirk_ at his lips.

Well, two could play at that game.

“Do you make a habit of always _being_ in weird places?” Lance retorted, and Lance was honestly shocked they were even having this conversation. Because since when did Keith have a setting other than moody and high, and—oh. Now that Lance thought about it, Keith actually _wasn’t_ high off his ass. Weird.

Apparently, Keith wasn’t done surprising Lance, because he decided to respond with even more fuckery.

“It _is_ a pretty bad habit of mine.” And then he fucking _smiled_ , and Lance swore he was about to faint or swear or wake up from a weird dream in which Keith was actually _pleasant_.

The smile wasn’t big; there were no teeth involved. It was very small, a mere upward quirk of the lips, but a smile, nonetheless, and Lance silently decided it was a good look on him.

“Yeah, well,” Lance continued—he was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the amount of thought he was putting into Keith’s barely-a-hint-of-a-smile— “It’s better than being boring.”

And Keith looked down into his lap, at that, his lips slowly forming a tiny frown (that was most certainly _not_ leaving Lance feeling disappointed). Keith’s dark eyebrows drew together slightly, and his expression made it seem like his thoughts were somewhere else.

“Believe me, sometimes boring is better.”

And Lance didn’t like this. Because Keith didn’t just look aloof; he didn’t just look moody or brooding or thoughtful. He looked _sad_.

“Trust me,” Lance said, and he didn’t care how little he and Keith knew about each other or how little they interacted because he just wanted that expression _off of Keith’s face_. “I just came back from being bored out of my mind with Hunk and Pidge. Not fun. Zero-out-of-ten, would not recommend.”

Keith’s frown loosened. His eyes met Lance’s, and Lance almost choked.

“They found that new science store, didn’t they?”

At Keith’s words, Lance smirked, a snort of amusement hidden behind the supremely secure lock of his lips.

Keith wasn’t allowed to be funny.

“How could you tell?” Lance asked, and somehow even Keith could understand the immense amounts of sarcasm in his voice.

“Lucky guess,” Keith said, and his eyes were almost _twinkling_. Lance swore it.

They stared at each other for a moment, basking in content amusement with Lance’s just barely suppressed crooked grin and Keith’s pressed lips that crinkled ever so slightly with mirth. They looked at each other, and Lance thought this was the longest they’d gone without bickering, and it was definitely the only civilized discussion they’d ever upheld.

But the moment was quickly broken when Keith’s phone let out a sharp buzz, and he looked down at it with a frown. His eyes immediately flashed with what Lance could only describe as anxiety after your parents caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

Lance gave Keith a knowing look, even though Keith continued to just stare at his phone with a pained line on his face. “Your folks wondering where you scampered off to?”

Keith blinked and looked up at him, wincing as if he’d forgotten Lance was there.

“I…yeah. My foster parents dropped me off, and they’re on their way to pick me up, and I…sort of haven’t gotten anything.”

There was the silent, unsaid fact of how Keith had probably been camping out in the bathroom the whole time, but because of the good person Lance was, he didn’t say anything.

“Did they want you to get something in particular?” Lance said.

“They wanted me to get a tux, which I’ve sort’ve been…avoiding. They won’t be too happy.”

Lance’s eyebrows crinkled in thought.

“What for?”

“Friend’s wedding.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Totally.” Keith’s voice had gone flat.

“You don’t like weddings?” Lance said, thinking back to his cousin’s giant wedding and all the music and dancing and conga lines.

“They’re not my favorite.”

The tension was radiating of off Keith in waves, his shoulders taut and his posture stiff, his hands clutching his phone as if it were a fist locked in a vice grip around his neck.

“Hey,” Lance said, “If you need a suit, you can borrow one of mine. The one I wore to my cousin’s wedding a few years ago is a little small on me. It might fit you.”

At that, Keith looked perfectly flummoxed. He was frowning so hard, brows scrunched together so tight that Lance just wanted to reach out and smack the expression straight off his face. I mean, _come on_ —you’d think the guy had never experienced any form of _kindness_ before in his life.

“Oh, quit it with your frowning,” Lance said with the dismissive wave of his hand. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.

And that was how Lance had sent Keith away with his contact information forcefully saved into the guy’s phone and the promise of future communication to get the whole suit thing sorted out. And yeah—that was weird. Apparently, Keith and Lance couldn’t have a single normal encounter. But it’d been better than aimlessly wandering the mall by himself ‘til Pidge and Hunk decided they were done geeking out over every little thing that had Lance recoiling in disinterest.

It had been a nice change to being alone.

So maybe Lance didn’t complain about it so much.

Later that night when the Lance finally re-met up with Hunk and Pidge, an itsy bit of dread bubbling in his gut, he was surprised to find the two approaching him with lowered heads and guilty eyes. Hell, Hunk looked on the verge of _tears_.

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk said as they approached, and the level of sorrow in his voice was honestly a bit overwhelming.

“Hey, guys...” Lance said, unable to mask the apprehension in his tone. ‘Cause what was happening? Did someone die? _Fuck_ —did Shiro’s sick mom _die_? Still, he tried his best to school what was most likely premature panic. “What’s up?”

Hunk scratched at his neck, his head still hung low. Meanwhile, Pidge seemed to be avoiding either of their eyes, which was a very un-Pidge-like thing to do.

Hunk seemed to notice too, as he cleared his throat and elbowed the girl. “We have something to say. Isn’t that right, Pidge?”

She released a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl before reluctantly raising her head to meet Lance’s eyes. There was a level of stubborn begrudging-ness in her gaze that only Pidge could truly emulate, but the slight shimmer of guilt didn’t escape Lance. He quirked a brow at her.

What the hell was happening?

At first, the girl said nothing, simply wrung her hands together and dragged the toe of her sneaker half-heartedly almost absently against the floor. Then, in a mumble of words, she said, “We’re sorry for what we said before. We should’ve done stuff we all wanted to do instead of just Hunk and me.”

Hunk nodded enthusiastically. “Totally. We were _so_ in the wrong, Lance. We’re all friends here and we should’ve been more inclusive, and we were total _jerks_ to make you feel left out—and we know maybe you won’t be ready to forgive us, but—“

“Whoa whoa— _hold_ _up_.” Lance silenced Hunk’s onslaught with the wave of his hand. “It’s all good guys, really. I know I’m not exactly…”

“Smart?” Pidge said, earning her a horrified elbowing in the side from Hunk.

“I was gonna say _into science stuff but_ thank you for your generous opinion.”

“Yeah…sorry about that,” Pidge hissed, and for once, the gremlin actually looked like she’d put thought into where she’d screwed up. “But seriously, we were being assholes. It was bad of us to make you feel like a third wheel.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance muttered. And though before he might’ve said it ruefully, the pleasant shock of actually getting an apology out of Pidge, and a genuine one of that, had Lance’s next words coming out in good nature. In fact, it’d been a while since his words felt actually as good natured as he tried to make them sound. “Trust me, I’m used to it. Heck, I’m practically a _sixth_ wheel, with Amnesty Club and _you guys_ and Shiro, Allura, and Mr. Smythe all banding together—”

“And Keith,” Hunk said.

“Huh?”

Hunk shuffled his feet, but he didn’t miss a beat. “You forgot Keith. He’s part of the club now too.”

“So, you’re actually a _seventh_ _wheel_ , buddy,” Pidge said with a playful pat to his shoulder.

At first, Lance didn’t say anything. Merely gaped like a fish because… he’d forgotten about Keith. Somehow, against all odds, despite all their random encounters and the fact that the guy _literally had Lance’s phone number in his contacts now,_ he’d managed to forget about Keith.

Keith, who was now apparently an official part of their little group.

Keith, who would be there when Hunk and Pidge inevitably got lost in conversation over chemical reactions and other science junk like that. Keith, who would be there when Shiro, Allura, and their club adviser would get caught up in chattering on and on about club logistics and funding and stuff. Keith, who would be there, sitting darkly on the sidelines like always, when Lance felt like he didn’t have a place in the room. 

A small bit of warmth pooled in Lance’s gut at the thought.

He didn’t exactly know how to feel about that.

So to compensate, Lance did what he did best and started talking. “Seventh wheel, huh?”

He wasn’t sure why, but he kinda liked the sound of that.

In actuality, that was a pretty awful wheel to be. But as it turned out, for once it seemed like he actually _wouldn’t_ be the only spare part.

And it wasn’t much, but hell, it was good enough for him.


End file.
